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[For purists, the Italian text of the poems follows the English translation.]

LORENZO DE’ MEDICI, 1448-1492

Notes and translation by Lorna de’ Lucchi

[351]

Biographical Note

LORENZO DE’ MEDICI, born at Florence; son of Piero di Cosimo de’ Medici and Lucrezia Tornabuoni; has been surnamed “the Magnificent”; one of the most distinguished scholars of his age; well versed in every branch of art and science, and no mean poet both in Latin and in the vernacular. He succeeded his father in 1469 and, on the death of his brother Giuliano in the Pazzi conspiracy, became the supreme power in Florence. He preserved peace and a balance of power in Italy for 23 years, and kept his Florentines contented and amused by repeated festivities. The most reputed scholars and artists flocked to his court; he died at Careggi, and is buried in Florence. He wrote a quantity of secular verse, some Laudi, and a Sacra rappresentazione di San Giovanni e Paolo. His love lyrics strike a personal note, and his Canti Carnascialeschi were imitated by Politian and other poets of his court.

Poems

101

LORENZO DE’ MEDICI, 1448-1492

Sonetto I

I SAW my Lady by a purling brook
With laughing maidens, where green branches twined;
O never since that primal, passionate look
Have I beheld her face so soft and kind.
Hence for a space my yearning was content
And my sad soul some consolation knew;
Alas, my heart remained although I went,
And constantly my pain and sorrow grew.
Early the sun sank down in western skies
And left the earth to woeful hours obscure,
Afar my sun hath also veiled her ray;
Upon the mind first bliss most heavily lies,
How short a while all mortal joys endure,
But not so soon doth memory pass away.

Sonetto II

HOW every hope of ours is raised in vain,
How spoiled the plans we laid so fair and well,
How ignorance throughout the earth doth reign,
Death, who is mistress of us all, can tell.
In song and dance and jest some pass their days,
Some vow their talents unto gentle arts,
Some hold the world in scorn and all its ways.
Some hide the impulses that move their hearts.
Vain thoughts and wishes, cares of every kind
Greatly upon this erring earth prevail
In various presence after nature’s lore;
Fortune doth fashion with inconstant mind,
All things are transient here below and frail.
Death only standeth fast for evermore.

103

Sonetto III

O LEAVE, Cithera, thy beloved isle,
O leave thy gentle kingdom, come away
And rest, O goddess, by this rill awhile
That sprinkleth every tender green grass spray.
Come to this shady place, to this soft breeze
Awaking murmurous music in each tree,
To songs of mating birds, sweet-tuned to please,
O let this country thine elected be!
And, if thou seek these limpid streams one day,
O bring thy darling son along with thee,
Because as yet this earth ignores his fame;
Steal from Diana her chaste nymphs away,
Who go untrammelled now and danger-free,
Scorning the puissant virtue of Love’s name.

Trionfo

YOUTH is sweet and well
But doth speed away!
Let who will be gay,
To-morrow, none can tell.
Bacchus and his Fair,
Contented with their fate,
Chase both time and care,
Loving soon and late;
High and low estate
With the nymphs at play;
Let who will be gay,
To-morrow, none can tell.
Laughing satyrs all
Set a hundred snares,
Lovelorn dryads fall
In them unawares:
105
Glad with wine, in pairs
They dance the hours away:
Let who will be gay,
To-morrow, none can tell.
Not unwillingly
Were these nymphs deceived:
From Love do but flee
Graceless hearts aggrieved:
Deceivers and deceived
Together wend their way.
Let who will be gay,
To-morrow, none can tell.
Fat Silenus nears
On an ass astride:
Full of wine and years,
Come and see him ride:
He lolls from side to side
But gleefully alway:
Let who will be gay,
To-morrow, none can tell.
Midas following,
Turneth all to gold:
What can treasure bring
To a heart that’s cold?
And what joy unfold
For who thirsteth, pray?
Let who will be gay,
To-morrow, none can tell.
Ears be very bold,
Count not on to-morrow:
Let both young and old,
Lads and lassies, borrow
Joy and banish sorrow.
Doleful thoughts and grey:
107
Let who will be gay,
To-morrow, none can tell.
Lads and lassies all,
Love and Bacchus Hail!
Dance and song befall!
Pain and sadness fail!
Tender hearts prevail,
Happen then what may!
Let who will be gay,
To-morrow, none can tell.
Youth is sweet and well
But doth speed away.

Canzone a ballo

LET him who is no lover
Go hence and seek another
Floor on which to dance,
He merits not good chance!
Be there one who knows not Love,
Let him hasten from this place,
For that heart is poor in grace
Which fond ardours doth not prove.
Be there one whose fires burn low,
Let him breathe on them, and so
They blaze again, he need not go!
Love presideth o’er this feast,
Those who serve him gather round.
Be there one by envy bound,
Take he leave, for thus at least
He will go and not be chased!
Only those whom Love hath graced
In so sweet a bower are placed.
Be there one who is ashamed
Of loving, let her ponder fair
109
And she will soon become aware
To love is to be nobly famed;
For love all homage doth deserve;
Ingratitude doth shame reserve.
Be there one perchance so vile
As to flee away for fright,
Let her understand aright,
No such coward fancies wile
In gentle hearts! Nature doth bring
Us beauty; foolish ’twere to fling.
Away the roses of the spring!